Benny the Imp

Living here on the Yishuv I often see little ones behaving...dangerously. It is not uncommon to see the young flip across the street as if it were just another part of the sidewalk; I'm astounded that there haven't been more serious accidents. I am certain G-d is watching. 

On the way to work today I saw one little guy, I'll call him Benny, approach the street as a car raced past. My heart went into my throat! I know Benny...he's a sweet, hyperactive tyke, halfway between cherub and imp, with stunning cinnamon-brown locks and deep, dark brown eyes that make you just one to hug him up. But there is no stopping to hug Benny! He's always chasing about, running hither and thither, always after the "big boys". He really doesn't seem to get he is a dwarf compared to some of these other fellows!! He certainly gives his family a run for the money! And he's a little escape artist to boot! So don't blame his family for his escapades. 

So like I said, car's coming to fast for me to get across and there I stood heart in throat. As soon as the car passed I started across to help Benny across the rest of the way but Benny quickly looked left, right and left again and then, like so many who have "just learned how to cross the street" just as fast as his little legs could take him, and headed for home. 

I wanted to go congratulate his mom on training her child so well; but his mother doesn't speak English all that well. Besides she's a b****. 

Oh and in case you want an idea of what Benny looks like, here he is! 

Benny 

Now isn't he sweet? 
(the best I can do. Don't really have a pic of him.) 
***************************************************************************************

(I actually am amazed that there aren't more serious accidents with the two legged imps on this Yishuv. G-d really is watching over them.)

By Popular Demand!

Well not really...but here are the two poems I wanted to share. They are just silliness, but sometimes you got to be silly! Or, at least that is what my brain tells me...my brain is a bit nuts though...

These are actually from a writing club that has been formed on a board I'm on.
**********************************************************************************
Um, Right
(aka as crazy day at the office)

Wrote write right,
but it was the wrong right to write
I should have written right,
but I wrote write,
but at least I wrote write right, right?
Even though it was wrong right to write


*******************************************************************************************
(we were suppose to write a silly ode. This one is in the style, I hope, or Rustavelian Quartrain)
ODE TO A RED SHIRT 

Could a red rose fresh on the bush ever think itself to compare, 
To my 100 percent cotton shirt,which I do now declare 
Made me fit for the canvas of the artiste'Jean-Babtiste Santerre 
But oh now, oh now,I'm in utter,complete,and total despair 

After years of service devoted,trustworthy and glorious 
preforming in times of duty, difficult and laborious 
whether I had lost the battle or emerging victorious 
my red shirt was always there for me faithful meritorious 

And then one day to my horror---oh the pain for I discovered 
a memory from which even still today I have not recovered 
for in my preparations for dress one day I had uncovered 
a tear, a dreadful tear, on the shirts back that could not be covered! 

My friends, my family, my beloved ones with seeming sympathy 
have assured me that I can prevail,and survive this tragedy 
(though I've this suspicion that for me there's not too much empathy) 
for this terrible, this tragic, this horrific catastrophe. 

(Hey, really liked this shirt.






**********************************************************************************************
BUT on a more serious note:


Who am I?

Constructing,destructing,adding,amending
there's no ending
till the final ending.

How can I avow,
that this is THE me?
A minute from NOW
Another me will be!

Constructing,destructing,adding, amending
there's no ending
till the final ending.

So here's the answer
to what you're asking
There is no I here
only I becoming